Crucio!
by Unsuspected
Summary: Nothing, nothing at all could get him to tell the truth about the sword. She had died keeping the lie alive, and he couldn't give up so easily. Alternate Malfoy Manor scene.


"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next."

The final half of her sentence was lost on Ron; he couldn't think past the first few words. _If she dies under questioning..._ That awful woman was going to kill her! Torture her and then kill her. The average day of Death Eaters everywhere: capture, interrogate, torture, kill, and repeat as desired.

"HERMIONE!"

The young woman's screams reached his ears, and he wondered if there was such a thing as pain worse than this. His Hermione—brave, strong Hermione— going through this? It wasn't fair. They should have taken him, not her.

As another cry of pain pierced the air, he cried out again, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

His words did absolutely nothing. Bellatrix continued to question her and use the Cruciatus Curse as she wished, laughing maniacally. Her cackles mingled with screams of agony, creating a terrible harmony.

Griphook was called forth, just another innocent creature to be hurt. The dungeon was silent as the goblin left.

It was questioned, too, and tortured just as brutally. But it, unlike Hermione, gave in. "Yes, ma'am. It's a real one," it croaked through screams.

There was complete and utter silence while Bellatrix worked out the situation.

"HERMIONE!"

The screaming stopped, and for a brief moment, Ron thought a miracle had occurred. Had Hermione escaped? Had Bellatrix felt some sort of remorse? Had someone come to save them? Then, an awful thought struck him.

"Is she-"

"I think she might be."

No. Not Hermione, not her. She couldn't have! No!

"It's your turn, ginger. You filthy little blood-traitor."

In that seemingly endless moment—when the final syllable echoed on the walls—the realization that Hermione was gone hit him fully and painfully. It seemed almost impossible—no, not almost, entirely impossible. She was Hermione. She wouldn't let something like this—something so evil, so horrible—top her! Never! She couldn't have... It wasn't true. It was _Hermione_, for God's sake!

"Your turn," the Death Eater repeated. "Your girlfriend wasn't much use, see, but you—"

"Shut up!" Ron bellowed. "Don't! Don't talk about her!"

"Now, now, ginger. I'm sure Fenrir wouldn't mind sharing _just_ a bite."

"SHUT UP!"

But another word could not be said; Ron was being dragged up to the awful place.

When they had reached their destination, there was a notable absence of the girl's body. Ron didn't search for it. He would rather not see what had become of her.

There he lay, directly under the very same crystal chandelier where Hermione had been killed.

A sudden rush of emotion surged through him. Wandless, he charged at the person responsible for her death. With no consideration of the consequences in mind, he screamed, "YOU—!"

Bellatrix cackled. "Yes, love? Care to join your little Mudblood girlfriend? She'd be glad to see you, I'm sure."

He was at her mercy, mere feet away from the insane woman—monster—who had caused the deaths of so many. This was the animal that had killed Hermione.

"Of course, we'd appreciate if you were a bit more help," she hissed. "Maybe you could start by telling us where the sword came from? She seemed to think it was merely a fake, and it was only lying around. The goblin, it thought otherwise. Crucio!"

He was flipped backwards, white-hot pain burning his skin, eating up his resistance. Now what? Should he give it up? Now that Hermione was gone, what was there to lose?

No—he couldn't. He couldn't think that way. Hermione had died—even if it hurt horribly to think of it—keeping them from harm, keeping the lie alive.

"Crucio!" her murderer cried once more, and numbing pain struck for the second time.

"She—was—telling—the—truth!"

"Liar! Crucio!"

The pain could no longer be felt; by now it had become a part of him, noticeable, but as natural as walking. The torture wasn't his biggest concern anymore. He would carry this out. He had to, if not for himself, if not for the entire wizarding community, then for Hermione. "No! It's fake! I—I swear!"

"Really?" cackled Bellatrix.

Filled with the desire for vengeance, he replied with power in his voice, "Yeah. Really."

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, blood-traitor!"

Ron was sure to raise his eyebrows in a way that plainly stated just how little he cared for the woman.

He had gone just a touch too far. In an instant, the woman had taken a silver dagger and thrown it into the air. It spiraled toward him. Her dark, soulless eyes followed its path as it made its way toward him, seeming to take ages, yet no time at all to reach him. No! If he was dead, it would leave Harry all on his own. And that was unacceptable—completely out of the question. He couldn't leave again. Never again. He dodged the knife, just barely escaping a direct blow.

Instead, it merely grazed his arm. Although it was excruciatingly painful, he didn't mind. It felt like a tribute to Hermione. He only had to be careful that he didn't let it bleed too much. That would mean certain death, which meant leaving Harry all alone. That would mean that it was all for nothing. He focused his mind on this while working out a plan.

He heard a distant crack, almost like someone Apparating. That was impossible, though, wasn't it? Completely escape proof, the cellar was. No getting out of there. No chance of Apparation, right?

Bellatrix still seemed to be processing how the knife could have possibly missed. Luck, it seemed, only luck. He possessed no skill greater than that of an average wizard, did he? She seemed to think so, for she soon continued with the questions.

"Then, why, could you tell me, does the goblin say otherwise? Why does it seem to think the sword is real?"

"Well, you're the one who says goblins aren't of human intelligence," said Ron.

"Not much less intelligent than the likes of you—what knowledge does a Mudblood and blood-traitor have?"

"More than you, I'd say."

Bellatrix could not reply, for air was suddenly rushing down toward them. The pair quickly realized that the crystal chandelier was about to come crashing down on them. The two dived out of the way, and again Ron found himself an inch from death. Harry—he had escaped the cellar!—grabbed the other man's hand, pulling him out of the path of the falling chandelier.

"Thanks."

Bellatrix was not so lucky. Both of her legs had remained at the mercy of the chandelier.

"Bella!"

"Cissy, get them! If your defenses were any weaker, we wouldn't have any!"

"Don't speak to me that way!" Narcissa huffed indignantly. But, she abandoned her pride and said coldly, "Draco, get on that! Stop them!"

By the way the boy moved, no witness could even begin to guess to intensity of the situation. He walked at a leisurely pace, eyes staring at the floor.

"Faster, boy! We've got to keep them from escaping!"

He sped his walk up so it now matched to pace of a slow jog. Reluctance was still etched on his face as he cautiously raised his wand.

While Narcissa fussed over her sister, Harry, Ron, and Draco stared at one another, each hoping for some sign that it would all be over soon. Draco was the first to give a signal; a sharp nod indicated that he was in agreement; it had to end.

Ron and Harry rushed forward. The one with the more unruly hair (though to say either looked well-groomed would be a lie) dashed toward the boy raising his wand half-heartedly. Harry snatched the hawthorn wand from the blonde boy's hand. A glance over his shoulder told Harry that Ron had taken Narcissa's.

The boys' old schoolmate was left behind, unarmed, as the pair ran from the manor.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader wisegirlweasley. The first line was taken from page 463 of the American hardcover edition of <em>Deathly Hallows<em>, meaning those words are not my own. I think this is my first piece of Harry Potter fanfiction that isn't poetry. This title certainly isn't my favorite, but I couldn't come up with a better one. I was also rather unsure of the genre. Also, if you think this isn't appropriate for K-plus, tell me. After reading the descriptions of each rating, I concluded that K-plus was the best rating. I'll take this moment to advertise myself here, and ask you to please check out my other stories. If you do, or if you don't, thank you for reading this one. Have a nice day.**


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